An old soldier
by Trantos01
Summary: [Oneshot] Failure, boondoggle, unwanted, a waste of resources, the VK 4501 (P) has been called all of these. And yet the previous Ooarai Sensha-do team used and then hid the machine away in the depths of their school ship. What stories does hull number 150014 have to tell?


My genesis was one of great expectations for father had put his all into designing myself and my kin. We were to be the next generation, marvels that our allies to look upon in awe and incite terror into our enemies. But like the Icarus of legend my father reached to far, too quickly when creating us with reality being unable to support his dreams and plans.

What was to be a powerful and mighty heart that would give us the strength and speed to charge across the battlefield was instead crippled and stuttering. When we were first shown to our father's master, my elder brother could not even make it across the field before collapsing in agony. And so we were passed over with our cousins being chosen instead. But even a lesser warrior can still serve so we were called into service to do all we could.

We fought, fought hard but in the end we failed for we could not drive back what we and our cousins had been made to defeat. The last I ever saw of the young souls that I had come to consider family was them escaping my broken form as the unending tide of the enemy continued to creep closer. To my sorrow I do not know if they ever made it to safety. And that was how my first war ended: in failure.

* * *

Years passed and I changed hands many times, until I was finally brought to those I would consider my second family on a great ship. They did not see me as a flawed curiosity or amusing side-show but as something more. I was to take part in a new war, not one of nations or ideologies but of status and prestige. And so amidst other cast-offs and relics I was restored to what I once was. While my heart was still weak and they did not have the skill to heal it, none saw this as failure, but a challenge to overcome. I could never be the charging avalanche that I had been meant to be so a new role was cast. I would act as the great steel-clad guard standing firm while striking down any who came into reach.

We fought well, basking in our achievements and learning from mistakes. It was a different war then the one I was made for but more enjoyable. No matter what occurred or how badly I was torn apart by the enemy those that I carried within would be safe. Years passed and I watched my family grow, introducing new members to me even as the older ones inevitably left for new voyages.

But as time went on the tides began to turn. It was said that I and the others on the battle-line were unneeded, that we served no purpose and efforts should be directed elsewhere. I remember hearing the impassioned pleas the commander gave to the ship's leader all the way from my place of rest. She asked for a chance to prove our worth, to show that our presence was valuable. And so the challenge was set: in the next series of battles, crush all in our path, leave nothing but broken wreckage in our wake and achieve uncontested victory.

We fought with all our skill and capability and spirits began to rise, that this war would be won, that our worth would be proven in the eyes of our doubters. Until we met those that had deterred us many times before. We brought everything we had and more into this conflict hoping it would be different then the one before. It was not. My second war ended much as the first did: In failure with my body lying broken upon the field of battle, incapable of carrying out my duties.

The sorrowful tears of my family fell onto me as they spoke of the fate of my comrades and myself. That we were to be rendered asunder, torn apart and sold as a means of 'recompense for the expense' we had incurred by our presence. But my family did not meekly accept their loss and our destruction. They spirited us away, hiding us in forgotten places, myself deep within the twisting corridors of their home. As my commander gave one last look at my form before dousing the lights and closing the door behind her, I knew my time was over.

* * *

I do not know how long I slept, months, years, decades? There was no way to tell, nothing reached me except the soft groans and creaks of the metal all around me. Until one day a series of young souls arrived before me. The first group lost and confused, the second to find them. Surprisingly upon seeing my form they grew excited and spoke of recovering me. Why? Was not the war over, what use could they have for me now?

But as I was raised from the depths and began to be reassembled I heard whispers from those that worked on me. That a new war had begun and unlike my previous, the stakes were not simply glory and standing. No, this war was more akin to my first, that unless it was won all that they held dear would be destroyed by those that stood against them.

And so I watched as the four who would pilot me learned my strengths and weaknesses. Even when my heart gave out they did not despair, instead repairing the new wounds but more surprisingly, seeing if they could repair what others never could. And with each attempt, I felt stronger. lighter, closer to what my long-lost father had intended for me.

* * *

When I saw the forces that would be opposing us for the final battle (to my shame I was not completed soon enough to lend aid earlier) I decided fate must have a sense of irony, for the enemy were my kin and allies from my first war. Granted they were not the same individuals, but a new generation made in their likeness. Their youth was easy to see, they radiated arrogance and pride like spotlights, such attitudes had never lasted long against the tide of foes we had faced towards the end. The commander's was different however. We had never before met but a fellow veteran was easy to see, his calm and purposeful demeanor matching that of his commander. No words were exchanged between we two old soldiers however, previous allegiance or not, in this place, at this time, we were enemies.

The battle was then joined and it was a battle unlike any I had ever experienced before. I snarled defiance from atop the hill as the enemy slowly crept upward, more then one falling to our collective fury. Laughter then erupted, my heart rumbling as I watched the arrogant youngsters lurch about when the little one brazenly dashed up into their ranks allowing us to escape, my armor deflecting their rushed shots as we all raced to safety. However what had been waiting for us in the town was far less amusing. Gazing up at that massive edifice I wondered if this is what the vast majority of my opponents had felt when they met me. Despite our new losses the commander once again found the path to victory and slew the hulk. Though I suspect no military planner ever envisioned (while sober or drunk) the means that she employed.

As the climax of the commander's plan approached I caught a brief glimpse of her and her counterpart racing through a tunnel which I promptly wedged myself in, blocking the approach of the subordinates who would have otherwise followed. I would have dearly loved to aid the commander more directly but this was the only option. We did not have the strength to wipe the enemy from the board, rather the head must be cut from the snake.

Strike after strike hammered into me, tearing my armor and body asunder even as I replied in kind, cutting down several of the enemy that then served as additional protection. It was a futile attempt but one that had to be fought. We had to buy our commander the time she needed to finish this battle once and for all. Even my broken hulk served this purpose, the enemy being unable to simply shove me aside and rush to their commander's aid. Hearing the girl pleading for her commander to fall back, the desperation and panic in her voice was an immense change from her previous arrogance and derision towards us. But for all her frantic attempts it was far too late for her to change the outcome.

"Kuromorimine's flag tank has been immobilized! Ōarai Girls Academy **WINS!** "

I am the last Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger (P), hull number 150014, named Leopon by the Ōarai Academy automotive club, and my third war: is a victory.

* * *

AN: Because if new tanks are being made for Sensha-do, there would be no reason for anyone to make the Porsche instead of the Henschel. Ergo Leopon had to have come from the original series that Porsche made in WW2.


End file.
